Once Upon a Time
by jervaulx
Summary: In which Len Tsukimori discovers the meaning of fun, friendship, adventure... and girls. /Story Request/
1. Chapter 1

_disclaimer: I do not own Kin'iro no Corda  
- a story request._

**Once Upon A Time**

They were children back then, more infant than kids. Born of wealthy families and a lineage tracing back to ancient times, they had little freedom and more little friends. Their parents' social and industrial broad influence were regarded as a key to a better future and befriending the blue-bloods were a risk the middle-class children could not—would not—take if it meant affecting their living. It left these children to stand alone with their little feet, the world viewing them as inestimable in the hierarchy, hence untouchable and unapproachable.

The social inequitability led him to keep to himself at such a young age, choosing to remain in the dark realm of the mansion with the lone, golden violin his only company. Never had he ventured out in the light unless it was necessary; never had he wasted his time associating with his peer group. The word "_fun_" was simply alien to his rapidly developing mind.

Children were, after all, seen but not heard… or so he believed. He never took notice of his parents' affectionate pride nor supportive hands for he was too intent on getting better with his instrument. He once thought of relinquishing himself of the violin for a time being, but somehow it made its way back into his arms again. Such was his life, the course of a young master.

But there was a memorable period in his childhood when his precious yet unchanging moments with the fiddle and its music were cut short; a long ago memory when he first experienced another foreign word: _friendship_. Strangely and coincidentally, that one thing that kept Tsukimori Len apart from the rest of the world brought these two regal, young highnesses together—music.

There was one tiny glitch in this short fairy tale, however: she was more of a peasant than a princess. In every quirk of her lips a suggestion of exuberant and vivacious spirit and in every mischievous glimmer of her eyes presented a damsel not so much in distress, thereby proving him wrong about shy and indolent and in-need-of-rescuing princesses.

She had, after all, slain his dragons for him simply by persistently tugging on his sleeve.

**.**

* * *

**.**

Author's Note_**  
**__Remember when I said I won't be writing for a year?_  
_Weeeell, I lied :DD_  
_You could blame my friends for constantly encouraging me to write.  
_

_Review!_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Meeting**

Tsukimori Len hated parties.

He hated the glittering chandeliers hanging overhead, the distinctive smell of flowers filling the entire expanse of the room, the elaborate decors crawling among the walls and windowpane.

Most of all, he hated the partygoers. Oh, he did not hate anyone specifically; at his age, he learned to dislike people generally, with the exception of his family. It was their smiles he loathed—courteous yet slightly acerbic, cool and hypocritical. He often pictured them as snakes, highly lethal and capable of destroying its prey within seconds.

He wondered if his parents could see right through them. But as far as he could tell, his parents avoided these kinds with professional care, smiling complacently then excusing themselves moments later.

_Perhaps Papa and Mama recognize their auras._ He could not help but give a tiny smile at that.

However, they have yet to read those within their circles. He had met some of his parents' associates, via parties ironically, and deduced those who were genuine friends and the counterfeit. Their smiles gave it all away and he'd given them a look so dark they promptly looked away.

The Tsukimoris were, after all, renowned for their absolute and influential power in the music industry. _Is that what they're reaching for? _hepondered the thought. He did not want to be used like an instrument someday.

* * *

**.**

"Mama," called a tiny boy's voice, "is it necessary for me to attend the party?"

Misa Hamai, who had been adjusting the tie of her son, glanced up at him with softened eyes. "Don't you want to come, Len? You'll meet friends there. A lot of friends."

"I already have a friend," he said, pointing at his violin case, which sitting on his bed.

She shook her head sadly at her son's antics, unable to comprehend his ultimate devotion to his violin. "How about a real friend? Someone you can talk to and laugh with?"

He grumbled something beneath his breath that did not sound very encouraging. Her lips curved in a little smile, she gave her son a peck on the both cheeks teasingly.

"Mama!" he cried with a wrinkled nose, wiping on the spot she kissed.

"Just try, all right?" she said laughingly, dusting her son's trousers as she stood up. "Besides," she added in a contemplative and conspiratorial tone, "I hear the birthday girl is a very pretty lady." She giggled as Len grumbled full-on.

* * *

**.**

Approximately twenty minutes later, they arrived at the party venue—a symmetrically structured manor in the midst of a carefully maintained greenbelt. From within, Len could hear nothing but childish laughter and the melody of random classical music. He was rather taken aback with the picture of the house; no fanciness to impress on this one. Hadn't he overheard his father say the family living there were old friends?

He tugged on mother's hand, eyes still glued on the mansion, to enlighten him about their old friends when he caught sight of a raven-haired man with an arm around a blonde lady's shoulders standing on the doorway. His parents had obviously seen them as well.

Suddenly, everything was a flurry of embraces and kisses as his parents greeted both adults in a palsy-walsy manner. The man had hazel eyes, twinkling apprehensibly as he slapped a hand on Mr Tsukimori's shoulder, who visibly winced at the other guy's action. Standing side by side, both gentlemen were of the same height.

"Still got those muscles, eh?" Mr Tsukimori asked dryly, rubbing on his aching shoulder.

The man shrugged. "Can't be helped. They just come naturally to me," he replied, guffawing.

Len heard a soft lilt and stared up at the blue-eyed beauty, assessing. In awe, he compared her features to a princess he once read in a fairy tale. She was quite a sight (although he won't admit it).

"Don't mind him, Jun-kun," the lady said with an amused glance on her husband. "He likes displaying his masculinity half the time, especially to our batch. Have you seen them recently?" She paused significantly, then her gaze slid down from Misa to the boy before her.

"Oh, silly me." She grinned, lowering down in eye level to Len. "Now, who do we have here?"

He felt his mother's long fingers tighten in encouragement on his shoulders. "Go introduce yourself, Len."

Shyness was unknown to Len, but he felt just that as he graciously curtsied. "My name is Len Tsukimori. It's a pleasure to meet you, Auntie, Uncle."

Like an indulged child, the lady clapped her hands in delight. "What a polite lad! You look so much like your mother!" She gracefully straightened and, just like a princess, made a deep obeisance. "Lena Mori. The pleasure is all mine."

A red tint crossed Len's cheeks as heat escalated on his face, his eyes wide with surprise. So that's where his mom got his name. He always thought his name was a trifle odd.

"This man here"—she gestured at her grinning husband—"is your uncle, Chiaki Mori."

Chiaki acknowledge him with a tilt of his head. "It is nice finally meeting you, Len. Pardon me if I confuse Len and Lena in the future," he said, winking as his wife gave him a look.

"And my son," Lena continued on, ruffling the boy's dark hair on her side. "Mamiru Mori."

Len had not even realized Mamiru was standing there until that moment. The older boy had black hair like his dad, but he inherited the blue eyes of his mother, only darker by contrast. He was tall and slender, already sending off an air of confidence and authority. Yet there was a hint of mischievous curve on his lips that reminded anyone of his impeccable lineage.

"Good evening, Aunt Misa, Uncle Jun, Tsukimori-kun," Mamiru greeted, bowing deep before them. "It's an honour having you here."

"Hello, Mamiru, how have you been doing?" Jun asked, brown eyes staring at the lad approvingly.

"Good, thank you. Everything is going well in my new school."

Chiaki, who had been looking over his shoulders at the sudden appearance of his son, looked at him inquiringly. "Where's your sister, Mamiru? Don't tell me you lost her again." His daughter's misadventures was a common knowledge in the house and everyone always kept an eye on her.

"I did not lose her _again_, otou-san." There was a slight pout on the lad's lips. "Manami ran off with Aoi-kun."

Misa's brows met, recognizing the name from somewhere. "Aoi-kun?" she muttered contemplatively. "Aoi-kun, as in Kei Kaji's son?"

"The very one," Lena answered, her whole face lighting up. "We can never separate those two when they're together. Ahh, I can almost see the future," she ended with a a heartfelt sigh.

Jun cocked his head. "Matchmaking?"

"Heaven forbid," Chiaki said, rolling his eyes.

"I think it's a bad idea," Mamiru agreed with a grimace.

And Len simply looked at each of them one by one, uncomprehending. _What just happened?_

* * *

**.**

Len headed towards the massive French windows, his measured footfall producing staccato rhythm upon the granite floor. Casting an obsolete glance to where his parents stood, he saw them talking with Kei Kaji and his wife. Their son was nowhere to be found, which could only mean that he was with Manami, the birthday girl.

He wondered what the girl looked like. Since his brother looked so much like their father—minus the blue eyes—he surmised that she might resemble her mother. It seems unheard of for her to be prettier than her mom; if so, then she was goddess.

Reaching his destination, he evaluated the height of the balustrade. It was too high for him. Sinking on his haunches, he leaned on the verandah, feeling the fresh air caressing his cheeks. The sun was slowly descending down the heavens, hiding on the horizon. He marveled at the sight before him, overcome by the peace it brought to his senses. Relaxing, he closed his eyes.

Then opened them again when he heard a muffled giggle behind him. He stood up, twisting his body from waist up. There was no one in the area besides himself.

Another giggle echoed, from the potted plant this time. He raised his brows. This was exactly a perfect scenario for hide-and-seek—a girl hiding in the tree whereas the boy, the it, awaits for her to come out, intentionally buying his time. Len shook his head at the fanciful thought. He did not even wish to play with the girl, whoever she was!

He neared the plant on the right side of the entrance, his footsteps deliberately quietened as to not startle the lady. As he closed the distance between them, he saw a blue dress peeking out from behind it. He frowned. Hadn't Mori Mamiru said that his sister was wearing a blue frock?

Before he could find out himself, another boy his age with yellow hair stopped short by the French windows, emerald orbs scanning the verandah suspiciously. His eyes landed on Len and followed the cerulean-haired's train of perception.

"_Is she there?"_ the blond mouthed, pointing behind the window on his left.

Len bestowed him a curt nod.

"_Thanks!"_ he mouthed again, his lips splitting into a devilish grin. He took a step forward, his left hand closing on the doorknob. And then, as quick as lightning, he swung it towards him and, making a quick run around it, caught the girl in mid-squeal.

"Gotcha, Manami!"

* * *

**.**

Author's note  
_Baliw na kung baliw :)))_  
_I was going to update Like Magic but i need to finish this one._  
_And then comes the unexpected... i actually thought this was the finale._  
_But I got too carried away that had me writing for several hours and voila~!_  
_Here is the outcome - impromptu,_  
_To TheSchoolNerd, who requested the story, this might take longer than I'd hoped it would be.  
Oh, and you might just picture out the Mori Manor from my description in "Six"._

_Tell me what you think? ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Unexpected**

Her squeak was simply destructive. If he hadn't covered his ears beforehand, he reckoned he'd be deaf by now. At least they weren't bleeding, Len thought, rubbing on his earlobe with a pained expression.

Unceremoniously, he was propelled backwards by tiny and chubby hands bunching tightly on the hem of his suit, creating crinkles on the surface. He regained his equilibrium, transferring all his weight by momentum on his heels so as not to topple the lass hiding behind him.

"Manami!" He heard Aoi call, twinged with genuine panic and sincere apology. Glancing at the blond, he noticed his thumbs twiddling in a suggestion of nerves. "I am so sorry. I did not mean to frighten you."

"You scared me." The little girl's voice sounded muffled yet still audible, her face pressing on his back. They heard her sniff.

Aoi visibly tensed, growing rigid. He carefully took a cautious step forward, afraid that Manami might bolt any second now, as he spoke: "I did not mean to scare you. I just want to surprise you, that's all."

"You still scared me."

Len looked behind him, his brows raised as he regarded her golden brown hair. The girl was shorter than him by two to three inches, the top of her head barely reaching his chin. With her features obscured and shoulders slightly trembling, she was the image of a helpless child.

"I'm sorry, Manami." The boy seemed closer this time.

The cerulean-haired chose that moment to speak, his voice devoid of emotion. "I think you should forgive him. It's not his fault."

Aoi sent him a grateful grin, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. He nodded his voice vigorously. "Yes, it was not my fault. Manami-chan screamed and it also scared me."

"I found you first. I told him where you were hiding."

The lad's mouth formed into a pout, his lower lip jutting forward petulantly. "I knew she was here somewhere. I just did not know where particularly."

"That doesn't change the fact I found her before you," Len replied, crossing his arms authoritatively. From behind, Manami allowed herself to relax; even releasing a short giggle between them. She was clearly enjoying the moment.

The other lad puffed his cheeks, scowling as he thought of a witty response. It came to him seconds later. "Well, I met her first!" he said triumphantly, his smile gloating. Without waiting for a reply, he lightly flitted and crossed the space separating them, standing head to head with Len.

Uncrossing his arms, Len stared at Aoi in surprise, admiring the boy's stealthiness. "You're quick." It was more of a statement than a question, but the latter answered nonetheless.

"I like running." He gave a Len a thorough inspection with his green eyes, and then cocked his head on the side. "But you don't look like someone who likes moving around."

Len wondered if he should be insulted; then discarded the thought with a decisive shake of his head. It was uncalled for to dwell over the tone of the statement right now.

Aoi clearly misinterpreted his action for he said, "It's a really good exercise, neh, Mana-chan?" he ended the query by bending over the lass until he was situated along the girl's perception.

With hands still clutching his shirt, Manami peeked on her side, adorably meeting her friend's imploring emerald eyes. Piqued by his own curiosity, Len found himself leaning down on his side to ascertain the colour of her eyes when she bobbed her head and abruptly, rather shyly, shielded away to the confines of his livery.

Both six-year-olds were careful not to show their disappointed. Aoi, being that Manami hadn't fully forgiven him for his unnecessary and thoughtless indiscretion; Len for failing on his mission—catch a glimpse on Manami's facet.

Aoi straightened up with hands akimbo. "Manami Mori," he called in his childish threatening tone, which was not the least bit threatening.

"Yes?" she replied, turning her head and eyeing him queerly.

His eyes held a devil's glint, lips curling in jubilance at a private inspiration. "I think I'm going to look for Mamiru-nii-san."

He expected her to run to him, her lips forming an appalled discountenance at the prospect of returning to her brother. He expected her to accept his apology and, when everything has been settled, exit the verandah hand-in-hand. Most of all, he expected her to release her trusting hold on the stranger, away from the blue-haired boy because envious as he was at the moment, he wanted for her to do just that.

What he did not expect was for Manami to reach for the unknown person. He did not expect her to tug on his sleeves, her eyes—his gaze slid away, uncomprehending the heat on his chest—conveying a thousand words as she stared at the stoic boy. He did not expect her next words either:

"Will you run with me?"

Len was unable to look away, regarding Manami with turbulent emotions welling within him. She had peculiar eyes, glistening cyan gems; not so light or dark. Just beguilingly perfect. He saw himself reflected behind those orbs, seeing through him, past his being. How could this girl trust so easily?

She may not be a goddess.

She was a princess.

* * *

**.**

Author's Note  
_I was pretty sure this was going to be the last chapter -_-_  
_I must say, this 'carried away' moments are positively frustrating._  
_Okaaaay, the next chapter will really be the last. Promise!_

_Tell me what you think? ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

**The Promise**

It did not take Len a long time to change his view on Manami's disposition. From a pious royalty of respectable and decadent descent, her rank had been reduced to a boisterous and carefree peasant who knew nothing about decency and whose actions were governed by merriment in a matter of hours after their meeting.

First impressions, he had learned, are not be trusted. A moral taught by, _ironically_, Manami and Aoi that fateful night a fortnight ago.

Looking back at the past events, he could not help but wonder why he had believed Manami to be a distressed damsel in need of a prince to dispatch her dragons when she could slay them herself. And of Aoi as a bully who acquired enjoyment in weaving pranks on the fairer sex when, in truth, he only enjoyed teasing Manami; multitude of teasing that brought a resplendent and vibrant grin on her face.

They were an odd yet easy pair, the two golden-haired six-year-old. He had observed both of them interact, amazed by the echt delight they found with each other whenever they were thrown in the same room. Having been isolated from many of their peers, Len had expected a dismally subdued duo, keeping apart from people and maintaining their own solitude.

Always, they proved him wrong. Manami mixed in with everyone, from the tiniest infants to the decrepit elders. On her heels, Aoi followed her all over like a loyal dog to his accident-prone master, occasionally dragging her away to gambol in the grounds. The adults did not seem to mind their heavy footfall or the infantile laughter escaping from their grinning lips as long as they were within their reach.

With him about, however, Manami made it a habit on tailing him around and tugging on his sleeves whenever circumstances permit. He would look down at her from between his nose and she'd gaze up at him with adorable, pale blue eyes that successfully mollified his irritation. There was something unexplainable and compelling in her eyes.

Len caught Aoi's wry face on numerous affairs and had to sympathize the blond although he carefully kept his features stoic. Oftentimes, he found himself the target of Aoi's envious looks, which he blatantly ignored. It was obvious to anyone watching that the lad harbored secret admiration for Manami in his own silly way.

Which explains why Aoi made it a custom of annoying the heiress everyday.

Today was no exception.

He sighed, pulled back on Earth from his rumination as a feminine, high-pitched shriek reached his ears. Sitting on a bench parallel to the playground, Len watched the pair with unamused expression. Apparently, Aoi played his _get-Manami's-attention_ mission again—possibly pulled a handful of her hair—and the lady was now chasing him round and round the swing, her short legs unable to keep up with his long ones.

"Mana-chan, Mana-chan. Why are you so slow today?" Aoi had the gall to taunt her.

She responded by quickening her pace, almost catching a fist of his white shirt when the blond slowed down a bit. "I'm gonna tell you on onii-san!" she growled before accelerating, sprinting gracefully. She stumbled in her tracks. Heart on his throat, he expected Manami to release a chilling cry. Instead, a silly laugh escaped from her lips. _Girls_, Len thought subsiding. He would never understand them; they cry when their dolls loose its head yet laugh when they scrape themselves.

"You should join them."

Len glanced askance at the old woman beside him, her lips forming in the beginning of a smile. To his knowledge, Manami's grandmother never cracked a smile nor grin in the company of grown-ups, her unemotional expression casting a sense of authority to anyone observing. With her grey hair tightly laced in a bun behind her head, lips pursed in displeasure, and her back ramrod, she looked formidable indeed. It was only in the presence of her grandchildren that she allowed her features to soften.

"I do not think it is wise, Grandmama," he said, looking back at the scene before him. "Kaji-kun can take care of himself but Mana-chan's strength should not be underestimated."

With misplaced determination, Manami had _ordered_ him to call her _"Mana-chan"_ that first week. Although he had vehemently protested and stubbornly kept his mouth shut, she had won in the end. Unfairly, if truth were known. Spoiled brat that she was—not!—she had asked for her brother's assistance in persuading him to address her by name. Not intimidated by the older boy, five years his senior, he had allowed himself to be manipulated by the girl and true to his words, began calling her _"Mana-chan"_.

Entertained, Grandmama released a throaty chuckle. "Indeed? But you are right. Although Manami is female, that does not mean she is weak nor unintelligent. I confess, my dear grandchild is perhaps the smartest person I've known. Smarter than her father has been. But I digress. I meant to say that you play with them, Len-kun. Have fun."

"I prefer staying on the side."

"Hmmmm. Do you feel lonely when you're with them?" Grandmama surprised him by asking.

He looked up to find her staring down at him curiously. "Uh . . . no," he hesitantly admitted, heat building up his pale cheeks.

"Then why not be with them? From the look of longing in your eyes, it's apparent that you want to join Manami and Aoi."

Len's expression immediately closed up at the mention of his eyes, inwardly astonished that he'd allow himself to be vulnerable. "It feels safer being alone. No one can easily hurt you that way."

Silence lapsed between them, Grandmama contemplating the emotionally fractured child beside her. She wondered how he could have acquired experience and wisdom at his young age. "There's nothing broken that can't be fixed, you know."

A perturbed pucker appeared between his brows. "I don't see the relevance of the statement in my current circumstance, Grandmama."

"You'll understand someday," she said mysteriously, cryptic meaning hidden behind her message. "Now then, why don't you run along now and give Grandmama some peace?" Saying so, she uncharacteristically gave Len a powerful pat on his back, which succeeded in pushing him off the bench.

He rewarded her a mutinous glare as he composed himself and the old woman laughed, not offended, at his ill _display of affection_.

During the short minute discussion between he and Grandmama, Manami had caught Aoi off-guard by deceiving him into slowing down and, using that opportunity, wrestled him on the ground. Releasing a triumphant giggle, she helped Aoi to his feet. Having brought up as a lady, Manami invited him to seat on the swing. Bruised in many places, he blindingly obliged, limping on one leg all the way.

The exact moment his bottom touched the flat, metallic seat, she began ranting on the ways of a gentleman, repeating words her teacher had said—although Aoi highly doubted it—and putting her own evaluation and observation.

Mesmerized by the woman standing before him, he stared open mouthed at Manami's lineament, hearing only half the words she'd said. With her arms akimbo, a frown in her brows, and the sun's rays highlighting one side of her face, he could not help visualizing her as an adult, a teenager . . . Hmm, scrumptious petite lady.

Her pink lips moved, forming words which entered one ear then exited on the other. Her cyan eyes lit up in animation, meeting his emerald eyes equally, distinctly rejoicing in having to lecture him. Warm, dark yellow lashes swept her lids as she blinked, concealing her mischievous eyes. Her pert, little nose wrinkled in grimace.

_What could he not like about her?_

One second later, her face was a mere inch from his. Flustered and taken aback, he fell from his seat, the swing producing a rattling sound in protest.

"What was that for, Mana-chan?" he asked, sitting up. Placing one hand on the soft ground, he rubbed the back of his head with the other, stifling a groan as he felt a bump.

"You weren't listening to me." Her lower lip jutted in a moue of vexation.

"Yes, I was! You were talking about . . . about . . ." His protest faltered partly because he knew not what she was talking about and partly due to the accusatory sensation her gaze held. With a dignified huff, he replied obnoxiously, "Fine. I admit. I was not listening to you. Happy now?" She was staring at him with open amazement now, fingers clasped in pleasure. "What?" His tone was harder than he'd intended but she did not seem to notice.

"Aoi-kun is finally telling the truth!"

Mildy displeased by her awed announcement, he retorted, "Of course! How could say that? I never lie, Mana-chan. Ever!"

"Ever?" Len interrupted, approaching the pair. He did not fail to notice that Aoi was propped on the brown soil with Manami standing over him on the other side of the swing. Although curious, he did not deem it necessary to ask why this was so.

Aoi shook his head, his eyes slightly hostile when they directed at Len. "Never. Ever, ever."

"Not even last week when you said you found Manami first?"

"Well, I did know she was there first. And that was two weeks ago. Past is past."

"Just now, you said you were being attentive to her words."

"I was. But then I got slightly lost that I forgot to listen."

Manami, standing in between both lads, watched them cautiously, her head flipping back and forth as they exchanged arguments. She was not dense; she knew the air was aroused with antagonism whenever Aoi and Len stood face-to-face.

"I—I don't really mind," she mumbled softly, hoping it would ease the growing tension. "Aoi-kun would never lie to hurt me, neh?"

A curt nod.

"And Len-kun would never let anyone hurt me."

A hesitant bob.

Manami's nervous smile cracked into a comely, cheeky grin. "Then that solves everything."

"If you say so," Aoi said slowly, uncertainly, struggling to his feet.

By means of apology—for Len Tsukimori _never_ apologizes verbally—he moved towards the blond, stretching his arm to offer his hand. Understanding the gesture, Aoi clasped his fingers around his as the cerulean-head pulled him steady on his legs.

"Since Len-kun is here, why don't we all sit together?" Manami elicited, drawing them on the swings on her side; the quiet Len in her left and the golden boy in her right.

"How are your piano lessons, Mana-chan?" the male to her right asked, rocking on his seat gently.

Len glanced at her, interested with her reply. "I'm slowly improving, onii-san said. He told me to keep up with melody since my _flaaaaaw_ lies there. What does flaw mean?"

"It means weakness, I think. I only heard it twice—from Papa." His brows lifted. "What does your brother know about music? I don't even think Mamiru-san could separate a cello from a viola."

She presented an impish giggle. "Absolutely nothing. How about you, Len-kun? How are your violin sessions?"

"Good."

"Will no one ask me about my violin lessons?" Aoi said, chafed, after a moment's silence when Len did not elaborate further.

Manami laughed, her titillation music to their ears. "I'm curious! Is everything all right in your violin practices?"

Chirruping, he replied, "Yes, yes. Sensei said I might be presenting in the school program next term or competing in an amateur violin contest. Thinking about it makes me so nervous and excited."

"Aooooi-kun! I wanna watch it. I'm going to cheer you from the audience until you're ashamed to play onstage."

"Oi, oi, don't do that, Mana-chan," he said just as devilishly, guffawing alongside her. "They might not let you join in a piano contest now that you have a record of making scenes in the crowd."

"I'm not planning on joining a competition," she replied nervily, a slight dent appearing on her cheeks. "I will simply watch the performances and clap my hands and cheer."

"Why not? I believe you're a superb pianist, Mana-chan," Len told her matter-of-factually, unabashed at his compliment.

Manami beamed at him, shocked by his admittance. However, her response was said in the same tone as his, "Because I know I will beat them all."

"But what if someone does beat you, plays skillfully than you?" Aoi asked, amused by the notion. "What would you do?"

"Let's see . . ." She paused in thought, her lips pouting as an idea processed in her head. And then, "I am going to marry the man who plays the piano better than me."

Abruptly, Aoi left stood up, surprising the other two occupants with his steadfast action. His lightning quickness never failed to astound them.

"I better start paying for piano lessons then."

He already had a full head-start before Manami caught his meaning, rapidly dashing on the direction he had ran to with an prolonged and emphatic "No!" while Aoi's gay laughter echoed around the midday paradise.

Len watched them impassively, his emotion controlled and unwavering within the core of his soul. His amber eyes lingered on Manami longer than necessary.

He had promised to keep her from hurt. He might as well make good with his vow.

* * *

**.**

"Mama?"

Hamai Misa raised her head, meeting her son's gold eyes so like hers blazed with firm determination. "Yes, Len?"

"Can you please teach me how to play . . . the piano?"

Pleased and unable to smother a maternal grin, Misa set her music sheets aside on the coffee table and reached for Len's hands, drawing him closer to her. Smoothing his disheveled azure hair, she asked, "When would you like to start the lesson?"

"_Now_ would be a good time."

Misa could not help but ponder upon who could have influenced her son's unbending decision.

_**FIN**_

* * *

**.**

Author's note  
_I have finished it. FINALLY!_  
_Liked it? Enjoyed it? Review!_

_footnote: Had anyone told me it was Father's Day today, I would have written the planned story before the day is over -_-_


End file.
